All We Need is a Little Bit of Inertia
by emzy of enzymes
Summary: Blaine Anderson has found himself lucky enough to be apart of New Directions, the world's newest superhero darlings. But when villain Karofsky focuses on the team leader of ND's brother, Blaine is pulled into something much bigger then he could imagine.
1. Home is when I'm alone with you

This was originally written for the Kurt Big Bang, but some issues arose that made me unable to commit to the original due date, so I'm just throwing it on here. If anyone is interested in giving me a hand in beta-ing, that would be beautiful and well-appreciated because this is extremely rough.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Present day<em>**

Hands were reaching up, pulling at Kurt as if they wanted to rip him to shreds. "Stop it- oh please. God. Just leave me alone." He begged, as the hands became fists. Laughs rang out around him, as the blows became faster. Someone, the leader, stepped forward into the light.

"This is what is going to happen," The leader said grandly, expanding his arms to show the surrounding area. It was all dark and murky, and Kurt could practically taste the evil swirling around in the room. "It's all nice that there are people who will try- let me repeat that again, try, to defeat this and help. But it's hopeless."

Kurt suddenly couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was standing on his chest and he could actually feel his lungs disinflating- for the first time in a long time, he felt Death's spindly figures reach out to him, a voice cooing in what sounded like comfort. The leader- _Kurt once knew his name, but it was gone, he didn't know anything or if anyone would come or if he'll die alone and just give in to Death, who by now was breathing into his ear to just give in, all the pain will go away, sweet nothingness..._- came forward, steeltoed boots steadly clicking with every step as if it was a beat to his demise. The man roughly grabbed his chin, and stared into Kurt's eyes with a piercing gaze.

"Repeat that after me," He said, sickeningly sweet, "Hopeless. This is hopeless." Death's grip loosened a little-_ the man couldn't see him, with his pristine, face splitting smile, standing behind him and smoothtalking with smooth jazz in the shadows._ Kurt was buckled into a chair, thick chains of some sort of steel wrapped around as tightly as it could go without severe injury- ("Not for your sake," The man had said earlier, as he tied a half-conscious Kurt to the chair, "But so that all your pain can be attributed to me instead of some earthly thing that could have been prevented.")- in a stark, empty, dark room that dripped with the smell of decay and death.

"Repeat. Hopeless." The man repeated, hands gripping his chin harder, and cocking his head to the side. His voice was extremely harsh, maybe from years of shouting, Kurt's mind helpfully supplied. Death stepped to the side, halfway out of the shadows where Kurt could see him, and clicked his tongue in observation. Kurt, wanting a distraction from the pain, from the suffering- looked towards him, soaking in his appearance.

Death looked like a man who was used to waiting an awful lot, slouching against a wall with what seemed like practiced patience. He looked slightly Spaniard, with smooth sun kissed skin and slightly tousled medium brown hair. He wore a white half-opened cotton button down shirt and dark chocolate brown slacks, but still managed to hold the air of professionalism and class. Noticing Kurt's stare, he smiled wider, reaching out an arm. His smile quirked more on more side, taking on more of a menacing look. His fingers spread out, and twitched in a welcoming fashion, almost as if it was in amusement.

Kurt shook his head and gasped as one of the man's fingers crept lower and hooked into the sensitive area of skin and fat underneath his jaw painfully. "Repeat." He hissed, "Hopeless."

Kurt hiccuped in pain, tears flowing down his face. "H-h-hopeless."

The man smiled cruelly, and dug-in deeper. "This is all hopeless." Kurt gasped harder, wincing and squirming in pain. He obliged, whimpering it out to the other's amusement. "You're starting to understand it, I hope. No one is coming for you, not even your precious Blaine."

Everything started to darken and drift away to the corner of his eyes. A wave of helplessness filled him, as panic began to creep up his spine, twisting at the bottom of his stomach, a cold chill. Death's face was blank now, a neutral expression as his face began to crack and everything for Kurt began to turn black. Death started to look more familiar, as dark skin began to lighten to a familiar and homely shade of porcelain. The face began to narrow, and the tousled boyish hair began to grow longer, curling around his shoulders.

"Kurt," He (now a she, Kurt's mind helpfully supplied) said aloud, now clad in a light blue sundress hanging to her knees, with bright blue eyes- his eyes-, reaching a slender hand to him. Kurt gasped as the recognition hit him.

"Mom," He cried out, just as he felt the man punch him in the stomach. "Mom, help me."

The woman sadly shook her head. "Kurt, I can't do that. You know I can't, but Kurt, baby. As much as I miss you, I don't want to see you for a long time, darling. You understand that? Please, honey." Kurt nodded in shock, gasping out as the man pulled his hand back for another hit. "That boy," she said, voice beginning to fill with static, "Your boy," she corrected herself, a shadow of a smile flittering across her face, "loves you. That much is true." Kurt's mother walked closer, the dress gently floating behind her as she lowered herself to her knees next to him, "But, you don't need him to save the day." She lowered her hand on top of his, a slight chill prickling his skin. "You, my dear son, are a Hummel. You can save yourself. You just have to believe it for yourself as well."

Kurt gasped as he felt his midsection fill with a burning sensation, shaking his head desperately to his mother's words. "I can't, mom, I can't, I can't do anything-" She clutched at his hands, before disappearing as if she had never been there in the first place. The man, Karofsky, David Karofsky, that fucker David Karofsky, clutched at Kurt's face harshly, before pulling his lips towards Kurt's for a desperate attempt at a kiss.

"You don't need Blaine," Karofsky whispered, voice dark and forceful, "You'll have me and I'll have you, Kurt, and that's all we'll need. We can do this together, whether you like it or not. But you will like it," His voice had tapered off to mumbling to himself, "especially once Blaine is out of the picture. And that merry band of misfits that you've aligned yourself with." Kurt stiffened, at both the words and the fact that Karofsky was trailing a hand down Kurt's chest, before finally stopping at his crotch.

Kurt began frantically kicking out at Karofsky, trying to get him away. The binds seemed to get tighter the more he struggled, and Karofsky just stared at him blankly for a few minutes, before smashing his fist against Kurt's cheek, causing a blossoming bruise that seemed to cover half of his face. "You'll learn, Kurt," Karofsky promised, "I'll bring you Blaine's head and then you'll learn."

The chains, Kurt then realized, weren't steel- but some sort of shadow alike to the ones crawling around the room, as they seemed to crawl up the back of his neck and latch on to his mouth. Karofsky then leaned forward as put his nose to Kurt's, in a sickening version of an eskimo kiss. "I'll kill him, I'll kill them," He growled, "I'll kill anyone who gets in our way."

Tears were rolling down Kurt's face as he silently sobbed. Karofsky stood up and slammed the door behind him, causing the room to be shrouded in complete darkness.


	2. Though our parts are slightly used

_A month earlier_

The odd thing about flying, Blaine noted as he attempted to gracefully land from his location in the clouds, had to be the pulling sensation that always seemed to be pulling him up, like the strings of a puppet. When he had tried to explain the sensation to his mother, she merely smiled and pulled him closer. "You see," she explained softly, the sweet sound barely reaching his ears, "Just remember, baby," she said, before pulling him closer into her embrace, "what comes up must come down. No matter what you want, it doesn't matter in the end."

As the rubber soles of his sneakers touched the tough asphalt in his backyard, he quickly checked his watch before gasping. It was currently five until two in the afternoon, and he explicitly promised Will and the rest of the crew that he would meet up with them at two to discuss the current matters at hand. Rushing inside, he threw open the door but ended up skidding to a stop.

There stood part of the crew of the New Directions, current crime fighting heroes, fully decked out in their matching uniforms. "Blaine," Rachel stood forward cheerfully, "We decided to meet you here because we've determined that you wouldn't be at the base in time, showing a lack of professionalism that I of course have—"

"Rachel, you shut your lopsided mouth before I deck ya." Santana hollered, snapping her fingers in the smaller girls face. "We are here for an important reason, of course." She finished, redirecting her attention to Blaine once more. "We have a mission for you. Especially for you." Her smile twisted into something dark.

"Santana," Finn began in what seemed to be an attempt at a warning note, before stopping and dropping it completely. Finn looked uncomfortable, squeezed between Quinn and Puck. Blaine could practically feel the tension between the three, silently noting to ask Mercedes about that later.

The last member of the group, Tina, stood forward with a manila envelope in her hands that was creased many times over, as if she had been holding on to it for a long time. "K-karofsky," She stuttered out, handing the envelope to Blaine, "has suddenly became active again. He has a n-new target— K-k-kurt Hummel." She continued, motioning for Blaine to open the envelope. He did so, spreading out the files inside onto the table. He noted what appeared to be a headshot, of a solemn young man. Blaine couldn't help but feel a twang in his chest at the photo. A few other photos were there, that seemed to be taken out of a family album.

"He's Finn's stepbrother," Rachel said, leaning forward and rubbing her hands together, obviously excited at knowing this trinket of information. "That's probably why Karofsky is targeting him. He probably wants to lure Finn in and absorb his powers!"

"Kurt," Finn began, obviously worried about this situation (And, a small voice in the back of Blaine's mind added in, the fact that Puck and Quinn obviously had some sort of… moment going on, unless he hadn't noticed the fact that their hands were almost entwined with one another). "He can heal and stuff, but he can't really do anything. Like, cuts and bruises."

Santana laughed, a harsh bark compared to her normal voice. "Blainey boy, here is the deal. You watch over Kurt, make sure Karofsky doesn't get to him before we get to Karofsky. Easy deal for you, okay?"

Blaine nodded, attention absorbed once more by the photos. The boy— Kurt, Blaine's mind supplied- was beautiful. Thick eyelashes framed large blue eyes, on a porcelain face complete with sharp cheek bones. The boy was lovely, Blaine couldn't argue. Santana leaned forward quickly, surprising Blaine. "Best part for you? He's about as homosexual as homosexuals homosexual." Her voice lowered to a sultry whisper, "So maybe you can lose that pesky virginity for once."

Blaine blushed bright red, the red blossoming all the way to the tips of his ears. Finn, who must have overheard, sent a warning glare in Blaine's way. A shrill ringing sound rang out from Rachel's pocket. She pulled out a small, metal device, and pursed her lips. "Something is going on, we have to go." The group began to filter out, nodding their goodbyes to Blaine.

Finn nodded, before reaching out a hand and latching it onto Blaine's shoulder. "Please, Blaine, keep him safe. His address is in the file— I told him you would come tomorrow around noon." His brow was uncharacteristically creased, the stress of the situation obviously manifesting. "With Burt and Carole gone, he's all that I have."

Blaine nodded solemnly. The rest had all filtered out by now, leaving only Finn and himself. Finn quickly leaned forward, catching Blaine in an unexpected hug. "Thank you so much." He whispered one last time, before running out after Rachel.

Blaine slumped against the counter, sparing the file one last glance.


	3. It's a little bit funny

_i'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but honestly? klaine isn't really my thing anymore; i've been converted into a pirate. it's hard to get into writing this anymore, but here's the last bit of text i had; sorry, it's short. :* _

* * *

><p><em>The next day<em>

At twelve pm exactly, Blaine found himself with a fist poised to knock on Kurt Hummel's front door. He could faintly hear the sound of music from inside the house. Blaine wasn't sure why he was hesitant—as Santana said, this would be an easy mission. Just make sure that Hummel was safe and secure, while they did the hard work and got rid of Karofsky. Kurt's home was located in the good portion of Lima, all the houses delicate and well taken care of, like the results of matching little cookie cutters.

The Hummel house wasn't an exception to that, looking as if it had came right out of a movie with the little white picket fence and lawn mowed to perfection. Blaine felt a twist in his heart at that. He finally shook himself out of it, and knocked on the door.

"Coming!" A voice exclaimed from the inside, and Blaine could the music being turned down and the familiar sound of dishes clattering together. Within a few minutes, the door finally opened to reveal the boy. Blaine couldn't help be taken aback—Kurt, if it was even possible, was even better looking in person. His skin almost glowed in the light of midday, the light hitting his hair making Kurt look simply divine.

"I'm Blaine," he managed to put out, extending a hand to the slighter boy. "Finn sent me—"

Kurt angrily tossed his bangs back, ignoring Blaine's hand. "Of course he did. I don't want to be babysat, so if that's what you think you are doing, you can just leave, please." Kurt attempted to slam the door, but Blaine managed to weasel a hand inside it before it closed.

"I'm not babysitting you," Blaine informed him, attempting to pull the door open further. Kurt just pushed it harder shut. Blaine winced as he felt the metal of the doorknob jab into his hand. "I'm just making sure that if Karofsky tries anything, he can't hurt you."

Kurt was growing more and more frustrated. "Why does everyone think I'm so fragile? I can take care of myself."

"Please, Kurt, you don't know what Karofsky can do—"

Kurt through the door open, hands shaking in anger., frustrated tears beginning to slide down his face. "Of course I know what Karofsky can do, he's been harassing me for years."

Blaine was taken aback. "That wasn't in the file—"

"Of course it wasn't," Kurt cried, "Finn doesn't know. If Finn knew, my dad would of found out, and I wouldn't put him through that. It was back in high school. I thought… I thought he was finally leaving me alone." His shoulders slouched, and his defiant posture completely disappeared. Blaine hesitated for a second, before pulling him into a hug.

"New Directions is going to take care of him, okay? And I'll keep you safe, okay?" Kurt accepted the hug, and nodded into Blaine's shoulder, tears streaking across Blaine's cardigan.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, moving back and wiping his eyes off on the sleeve of his dress shirt. "You can come in, I'm sorry for overreacting—"

"It's okay," Blaine said, "You've been going through a lot. I understand." Kurt nodded again, obviously a little out of it, before walking into the house and motioning for Blaine to come with him. Blaine followed.

The house was just as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside, with pictures everywhere and obviously carefully and meretriciously planned out. Kurt led Blaine to a couch located in the foyer, sunlight gently streaming through the window. "Oh," Kurt gasped slightly, grabbing Blaine's hand. "You're hurt, I'm sorry, let me fix that up right now, okay?" In the middle of Blaine's hand was a slight cut, inflamed and obviously painful.

Kurt gently rubbed a few of his fingers on Blaine's palm, gently rubbing against the cut. Blaine groaned as it hurt, a sharp stinging pain burning through the wound. He couldn't help but notice though how soft Kurt's hands were, or how well they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle joining together perfectly. Kurt covered Blaine's hand with his own for a few seconds, before pulling it away. Blaine couldn't help but let out a sound of amazement at the fact that the wound was now completely gone—the only proof that it ever was there was a slight retreating red spot.

Kurt then folded his legs, and put his hands in his lap quietly as Blaine spent a few minutes marveling at this palm, pushing and prodding at the skin there. After a while of silence between the two, Kurt finally spoke up. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Blaine shrugged, inching closer to Kurt. "Whatever you normally do, I guess. We have a while to wait."

Kurt smiled.


End file.
